


The boy

by johngirl



Series: Fangirl play list [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Engagement, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Lost Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-13 01:43:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9100876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johngirl/pseuds/johngirl
Summary: Based on the song called I got the boy by Jana Kramer. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rNJwu-YkQlcI dont own the song or characters





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my gr9 beta Captainkneazles.This work would not be worth reading without your feedback and support. I love you and you truly one of mine best friends!

One chilly Tuesday morning, Hermione Granger found herself in bed alone. Sighing, she rolled over onto her stomach and spread all four of her limbs out— taking up the entire bed. She could still feel the warmth on the other side and knew that her live-in boyfriend, Ron Weasley, of many years had not been gone long. After a few minutes went by and she heard no noises around their flat, she finally opened her eyes and found a note.

-Mione,  
Harry and I have been called in for an Auror meeting. Apparently, there has been a break in the case. You have been working so hard lately that Harry and I didn’t want to wake you. Take it easy today, love. I’ll floo when I can.  
Love you always,  
Ron.  
P.S. Remember enjoy your time off. You’ve earned it.

She sighed, had Harry come over to get Ron? ‘He must’ve’, the petite woman mused to herself. There’s no way Ron would get up this early on his accord. The Ministry must have sent the message to Harry after all. Harry had always been an early riser due to his childhood, and they must have asked for him to bring his partner—Ron—with him. Harry must have flooed from his flat. They had told him he could come over at any time. He even had his own room— as they had one at his flat. Part of her wished she could have seen that. Ever since Harry had stumbled on them in a very intimate moment a few weeks prior, his visit became less unannounced. She could see in her mind's eye, Harry nervously peeping around corners, listening for any sound or paying close attention to the layout of the flat for a tell-tale sign of something he would not want to stumble on. Finding none, Harry would still cautiously walk up to their—Hermione and Ron’s— bedroom door and ever so slightly twist the knob. Through the tiniest of slivers, he would take a quick look and when he had found that his two best friends were doing nothing but spooning, he would—finally— enter.

She loved her boys and their tiny family of three. She hoped it would never change.

Hermione found herself too awake to sleep and repugnantly left her warm bed as she was greeted by the chilly morning air. After going through her morning bathroom routine— using the loo, brushing her teeth, (slightly) brushing her hair, and washing her face— she grabbed a jumper and nice thick wool socks out her trunk that she once used at Hogwarts. Pulling the jumper over her nightshirt, the brown headed woman slowly moved towards the cramped kitchen in the hopes of making some tea. As she waited for the kettle to whistle, she heard a tapping on the nearby window. With frozen fingers, she lifted the window plane half way and allowed a brown barn owl inside with a bone-chilling gust of wind. In the owl’s tiny beak was the morning’s copy of the Daily Prophet. Despite how she hated the Prophet, she felt that it behoved her to keep updated— less there be any fires that needed to put out. ‘Better to put the fire out while it’s small’, Hermione thought. After giving the owl the money for the paper and a treat, she flipped through the paper. Quickly, she skimmed through articles. Finding nothing important, she browsed through the wedding announcements— that’s when her world flipped upside down.

***

Yeah there's the old you that I knew  
I saw your picture in a paper, Honeymoon in Jamaica, she's a lucky girl  
You look so grown up in your black tux, from a ball cap in a pickup, seems like another world,

Normally Hermione paid no mind to them; she just smiled and wished each couple a quick “good luck” in her head before reading on. However, her eyes stopped dead and her heartbeat quicken as she saw the announcement about Harry and Ginny. Really, she should not have been surprised; Harry had mentioned it and had asked Ron’s approval— after asking Mr and Mrs Weasley of course. None the less, she still had been taken by surprise. For one, it took her by surprise to find the announcement in the paper since Harry loved to keep his life private— of course, there was no date mentioned by the picture. She assumed that they either had not chosen one yet or left it out for a reason. Furthermore, Harry despises the Prophet with a violent passion.  
The second reason it took her by surprise was because deep down, deep, deep, deep down in her heart she still had a soft spot for Harry. Yes, she loved Ron, tremendously so, and Ginny was like a little sister to her. But there was just something about Harry. Something that made her forget the world as she looked into his green eyes. He always amazed her how he could be so smart and yet so bloody thick at the same time. How he could have dealt with so much pain and loss, but yet be so kind and caring and giving….

 

She had no clue how long she had stared at the picture until her hand shook so hard that the paper fell from her grasp. As it falls to the floor by her feet she closed her eyes and tried to compose herself. However, even with eyes shut she could still see the image. It just felt wrong to think about it. Harry in a tux was something she only saw a handful of times. At the Yule ball. Bill and Fleur’s wedding. That one time in the ministry when they were on the run, but that wasn’t even truly him. She had seen Harry in a tux before, and in Auror robes, and in dress robes. And he looked bloody brilliant in it, but it was just not how she envisioned Harry Potter. Her best friend. Her almost lover. Her (now the only title she could give him to show how close they were, for she would never take away two of her friends’ happiness away) brother.

In her mind's eye, she pictured a raven haired boy, warm green eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses, baggy t-shirt and jeans, and a pair of old trainers. They all suited him, but jeans and a t-shirt just screamed HARRY SODDING POTTER. This image brought her comfort. It felt like home. That’s what Harry was. He was her safe place to land. Had been since sixth year. Sure they were a family of three, and the Weasleys had accepted both of them as a part of their family as well, she also had her parents. But between her and Harry…. Things were just… stronger? deeper? In any case, Harry just seemed to get her better than anyone else ever had, including her own parents. Or at least the boy she knew pre and post war did. Before he and Ginny became serious and she and Ron had done the same.

The boy. The boy who-who lived. The boy who defeated Voldemort. The boy that at one time, could have been what Ron was to her now. The boy who, at one fleeting moment in time, had given her his heart. Had allowed himself to belong to her if she wanted him. ‘If I had kept him, would I be feeling this empty and sad right now? Would I wonder if I should have chosen Ron instead?’

That was just it. The Harry that had belonged to her was just that. A boy. Now, Ginny had him. All dressed up and smiling a smile that only a man in love could smile. The young woman knew that the younger red headed Gryffindor alumna would love him, unconditionally at that. More to the point, she would love Harry bravely, unlike herself. They both deserved that, an unconditional and fearing love.

That’s why she would say nothing. She would smile and be happy for them. After all, she was happy. She had Ron, and he cherished her. The other Weasleys treated her like family. In fact, she could never remember a time she wasn't welcome in their home. Her parents had their memories of her once more. And Harry— Harry was in her life and knew she meant a great deal to him. He loved her, and she, him. That was just it, though, she loved Ron but she was in love with Harry. And she had let him go. It had been her choice entirely and now she would lie in the bed she had made.

You and me and our big dreams, falling in love  
We were two kids in the backseat, all fearless and young,

She let her mind slip into the past. Something she tried not to do often. The past was another world from now, and it was a dangerous thing to let one’s mind wander there for long.

As her mind slipped back to the days of her youth, though they were not long ago— the twenty-six-year-old reminded herself she was still fairly young— they still felt like several lifetimes ago. ‘Especially now’ the brunet thought as she accidently toed the Prophet at her feet. She saw the boy. The one she had placed her life, trust, love, and hope in so many times. The boy who had been her first friend. Her one of first love.

Life was so cruel then. Messy. Rushed. They were only children and the world forced them to be adults. To make costly choices that would affect not just them, or the committee around them, but also the future generations of both the muggle and wizarding worlds. Still they– the three of them at first then the DA and the order— had taken it all in stride.

***

Fake IDs to get into those spring break bars  
Back woods on a four wheel, hanging on tight, I can still feel my racing heart

She remembers riding Buckbeak and that dragon from Gringotts. Her arms tight around his waist as adrenaline rushed her body and the exciting, dazzling fear pumped through her veins. She remembers how he would hold her two clenched fists with one hand, the beast with the other. It was as if he were saying “It's alright. I got you. You have nothing to fear, I am here and I won't let go.” The irony how he had been her lifeline in those moments and in the end she was the one to let him go.

She remembers the time when they first met, that day on the train. His smile big and bright, eyes shining like a grassy meadow under the summer sun. So happy and carefree. She had not thought much of it that time, though she did think more highly of him than the red haired boy across from him- then- (thinking about Harry in that way always made Hermione feel guilty). She also remembers how thin he had been, she had not known about either of the two boys’ life at home at that time. Still, she remembers thinking “does he ever eat?”. It had not been until their second year she had learned the horrible truth. That had also been the year Harry gave her the bracelet.

 

***

“It was my mother’s.” He had said after pulling her aside one day. She had listened to every word the boy said. It was not often- even now- that he brought up his parents. So she listened and did not dare to interrupt. “My aunt and uncle took Dudley out for the day, and I was supposed to be cleaning and I was upstairs. That’s when I found that the attic door was unlocked, you see. So I went in. I found this box with my mother’s name on it.” She remembered correctly Harry had paused there. He turned his head away from her, something she learned he did when he tried to compose himself. After a moment he turned back, clearing his throat and pulling on his tie as if it had been choking him. “Unsurprisingly,” he continued. “There wasn’t much in there. However, there was this bracelet. I believe her parents, my grandparents, gave it to her. Maybe it was a Christmas present. I think I saw Aunt Petunia wearing a similar one. Anyway,” he looked at the bracelet in his hand and rubbed his thumb over the charms that dangled from the gold chain. “I want you to have it.”

She certainly hadn’t been expecting that. “No, Harry I can’t.” She pushed his hand away as he tried to put the said bracelet in her hand, fiercely shaking her head— bushy brown curls flying everywhere. “It was your mother’s. You should— “

“Hermione,” the young boy interrupted. “It’s a girl’s bracelet. I can’t wear it; Malfoy would have a mickey. Besides if I wear it and someone asked about it” he shook his head. “I don’t want to answer a question, of any kind. Besides, I would probably lose it. I know you won't, and I can’t stand the thought of my aunt having it or collecting dust in some box. Please, Hermione, it would mean the world to me if you would take it and at least wear it on occasion.” Harry finished. He wouldn’t meet her eyes so she couldn’t read him. After a long pause, she gently held out her hand. Wordlessly, the raven haired boy fastens the bracelet around her wrist.

 

***

Although she didn’t wear the bracelet that often, she knew where it was. Inside her jewellery box in her closet. ‘Means more than some stupid diamond ring. My gift is more sentimental. Shows how he trusted me first’— a loud whistle broke through her bitter, jealous, thoughts.

The water was ready for tea.

***

Coming back to reality, she decided to think no more about the past. She would take the advice given to her and take an easy day. ‘Perhaps a long soak in a bubble bath while I catch up on the piles of books I haven’t been able to get to. After all, the flat is clean, the laundry is folded and put away, and the kitchen is stocked. Also, I am all caught up on all my paperwork and I have been given the next few days off by Kingsley himself.’

***

I got the first kiss and she'll get the last  
She's got the future and I got the past

She had managed to enjoy a leisurely breakfast, a long bath, and even got through a few books from the mountainous pile she had started many months ago— before her mind started to ebb backwards into the past. She tried to fight them. Starved them off by thinking of her life now. However, her efforts were all in vain as it only made them come in stronger masses and became more chaotic as each second passed. They swirled in a tornado of nostalgia, pain, comfort, sorrow, and happiness. She could not seem to stay on one memory for too long before another memory would come by and replace it. Their fanatic dance caused them to bleed together. Conversation no longer made sense as they were interrupted by their brethren only to continue shortly.

Hours seemed to go by as she crouched in her skinny jeans, grey jumper, and wool socks inside the living area of her flat. Her mind in a painful haze almost as if some unknown person was performing Legilimency on her. Her memories slowed. The calm before the storm, or in this case after. The most memorable memories danced lazily, still making their presence forceful. Daring her to try and ignore them.

She could see all the adventures they had. The times they had fought for each other. All of them, not just the two of them. Although she and Harry seemed to glow as if they were something special. As if they were the two most important people in the world and the people in it around them were just a backdrop and extras off some play or movie.  
She could see the battle at Hogwarts. The Malfoy Manor. She could hear her own screams.There were some just ordinary ones as well. Times studying in the common room or the library. Times eating in the Great Hall. Times at Hogsmeade. Times practising DADA in the room of requirement. In each and every time, she and Harry seemed to glow.

However, there is one memory that seemed to glow so brightly that it was like staring into the sun.

The night of the beginning and the end of them.

She had meant to be quiet. Other than a few sobs, she had managed to do so. She wanted to let Harry sleep and sort out her thoughts alone. When the tears just would not stop falling, like always, Harry was there. He meant it for comfort. She knew that then. She knew that now. It was cold and she was sad and tired after many nights of burning the candle at both ends. Slowly and tentatively, Harry wiped her tears away with the pads of his thumb. He had always been awkward at this. Comforting another human being. The fact that he would spoke volumes. He sat before her prolonged figure, silently letting her know he was there. She was not alone in the tent on that freezing cold night. That she could lean on him. Not being able to take it anymore, she shot up and wrapped herself around him, tackling him to the cot beneath.

In her mind's eye, she could see it now. How their limbs tangled together as they fell in the dark. She wasn’t entirely sure who had started the kiss but it sent chills down her spine. Chills that had nothing to do with the icy wind outside their tent. At first, Harry seemed reluctant, he pulled back.

“Hermione are you…. Are you sure? About this, I mean, we don’t have any protection.”

She almost laughs as Harry tripped over his words. In response, she took out her wand and cast a few spells.

“Yes, I am sure. I am sure about this more than anything else.”

Their lips meet again and nothing else was said.

 

***

She had her moment to choose between him and Ron. Back when he could not make up his mind about her or Ginny. She blamed the situation they were in at the time. Ron had left. The war was at its tempest. Her parents didn’t know who she was. She felt like she lost everything. Afterwards, she had told herself that she loved Ron— which was true, and what happened between her and Harry was just a way of coping with everything. That losing his friendship would be the last straw.

She had been in denial. She loves and had loved Ron without question. But she loved Harry more. She was in love with him now and then. It had been fear that had made her push all that way. Fear of his anger which terrified her to the core of her soul. Fear of not being able to love Harry with the intensity he would need after being hurt, abused, and ignored by so many. Fear that he would as she had thought, but never said aloud at that time, that Harry would have to sacrifice himself to end the war. More so that he would leave her with only the memories flooding her now.

She feared that once Ron found out he would hate her and leave her life for good. Taking his family with him. Sure she had other friends and she could track down her parents and bring back their memories (which she had). She had looked up and practised the spells for it. Getting to know the words and wand movements by heart. Still, though it would not be the same. None of them would know what it was like to grow up like a muggle and become a part of the Wizarding world.

Yes, she had known more about the world she and Harry were destined to be a part of before she entered it. More than Harry had when he had. Still reading about something and living through it are very two different things. While others had been kind and paid no mind to the fact she was a muggleborn and had been raised in the muggle world, it was not the same. They had not tried to get know her like Harry had. They had not supported her or patiently listened to her rants about S.P.E.W. or school work. At first, not even Ron did that. Yes, he, Harry, had complained (not to her, at first) and he had thought of her as annoying— though he dared not voice it. And yet he had been the one to come and save her from the troll. Along with Ron, though it had been Harry’s idea. It was he who had convinced Ron to befriend her. It was he who gave her a shoulder to lean on when Ron was involved with Lavender Brown.

Sure, there were others who had been muggleborns and were raised in the muggle world. Even in their house such as Dean Thomas. Dean was nice enough and been her friend. But from that day on the train, she had felt a pull towards Harry. Like she needs to solve this great mystery. It was the pull to protect this boy. To go on adventures and be like the heroes she read about. Harry unknowingly gave her all of that. Gave her the gift to use her mind in ways school would never give her. Challenged and pushed her in ways she never even thought of. Each time she came out stronger, more defined. Like steal thrust into a fire and sharpened.

No one else would give all of that. No else would be capable of giving all of that.

Ron gave her so much. He made her smile. He made her laugh. He made her life worth living. Waking up beside him was one of her favourite things in this world. She loved his confused face as he tried to understand her job, muggle things, or whatever topic she had recently read about. She loved how he was loyal without question. Brave beyond measure. How he had so little, was one of the youngest, the one to get the last of the hand-me-downs since he was the last boy in the family, yet still open his home and his family to both her and Harry. Allowed Harry to share his room— one of the few things he could call his own. How he risks getting into trouble and rescue a friend he only had known a year. Moreover, giving up going home, for that same friend, so he would not be alone on Christmas. Knowing his mother would be hurt and angry— like the rest of his family, thought they would be more confuse— and despite the fact that he was very homesick.

How he would, most of the time, let Harry have all the fame. While he stood silently in the background, ears turning red and face pink when he was dragged on or acknowledged for assisting. Even though he was constantly overlooked by his parents— not on purpose mind you, Molly and Arthur loved every one of their children endless. He wasn’t the ‘perfect’ one like Percy. Or the oldest like Bill. He was not the daring one like Charlie. He didn’t pull pranks like George and Fred. He wasn’t the youngest like Ginny or the only girl. No. Ronald Bilius Weasley let others shine. As a matter a fact he helped them do it too. He was stardust. He was the most selfless person she had ever known.

She knew he was smarter than he let on. She watched him play chess. Watch him calculate each move. At first, before truly knowing him, she thought he only hides his intellectual gifts so people would not try to get more out of him. Well, that and laziness. Soon she learned that Ron simply loved his family. He knew it meant the world to Percy to be the smartest. How the twins love to make others laugh, so he would not ruin their fun by lecturing them even though he was a perfect. For many years he would not try out for quidditch even though he loved the sport. One, he did this thinking that he was not good enough and two, fearing it would upset his brothers. That they would feel challenged and resent him. For Ron, all that mattered was that those he cares for and loved felt important.

She loved this selfless man. He gave her his all. She could truly see a long happy future with him. See the kids that they would have. Be happy to walk down the aisle to him. But would she be looking at him or his best man and friend, Harry James Potter?

***

If things were different and I had a choice, which would I choose?

If she still had her time turner, if she could go back, would she choose the boy or the man? Harry was a great man too. He was strong and fearless. And just as bit selfless as Ron. He too was smart, Though the man now had handled it better. Harry is a man now and he was more mature. He did not get angry nor rush in blindly into danger. He was a man and Ginny had him.

***

Hours later, when Hermione finished setting the table for dinner, Ron and Harry had flooed in to let her know about the day’s events. They all had agreed to have a quiet and private celebration about Harry and Ginny’s engagement.

‘Our family of three is now four.’

As she placed the last plate on the table, she heard voices and laughter fill the flat.

“Oi, Mione” Ron wrapped his arms around her. She peered around Ron and saw Harry and Ginny laughing and smiling like they were the only ones in the room. The only ones in the world.

“Dinner smells great love.”

“Thank you.” she muttered into his chest, looking away from the couple.

“Everyone sits down, I’ll serve. And no fuss, Ginny. Harry, this night is about you two. And Hermione love, you cooked. So you lot should just sit at the table while I serve.”

Hermione put on a happy smile and followed her boyfriend’s order. She asked Ginny about how Harry had proposed and squealed at the ring that now decorated her younger friend’s finger. All the while she never looked at the raven haired man or said his name. She was polite so no one would take notice and ask her what was wrong. She would not think about the boy or entertain thoughts of what could have been.

Hermione had made her choice.

Harry was a man now. He was no longer a boy and therefore no longer hers.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading please leave comments with love or constructive criticism.


End file.
